July 24th, 2011 10:56 PM

Dr. Orlando Fuller signed and dated the intake form before moving out of the way to let two of the hospitals men roll the young girl in, leaving just as quickly as they’d come. The name on her form said Elizabeth Greenburg, born August 7th 1990. She would have been 21 in a couple of weeks.

Even after 34 years as the county coroner, it still broke Dr. Fuller’s heart to see a person so young on his table. Especially a pretty girl like Elizabeth. But he thanked god every day that it wasn’t one of his daughters coming in on the gurney.

"I’m heading home, Dr. Fuller," came the voice of Patricia Rosenthal, the doctor’s most promising intern. No doubt she had just changed out of her scrubs and grabbed her purse from her locker. There were only a couple minute until the doctor himself would leave and then the building would be empty until Monday morning. Except for the guards and the dead, of course.

Dr. Fuller gave Patricia a smile as he wished her goodnight, reminding her to be safe on her drive home before turning back to poor Elizabeth on her table.  Laying on the slab, still dressed in her shorts and tee, the girl looked like she had simply fallen asleep. First thing Monday morning, with Patricia’s help, he would try to figure out why two EMTs had pronounced a seemingly healthy girl dead on arrival when there wasn’t a mark on the body.

Until then, Dr. Fuller slipped on her toe tag, covered her with a sheet, and pushed her slab into a little silver drawer marked Elizabeth Greenberg.

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Chapter 1

Elizabeth’s eyes shot open, although in the pitch black darkness, she could hardly tell the difference. Nightmares like the one she’d just awoken from had stopped frightening her many years ago. Calmly she extended her left hand, intending to click on the lamp that should be sitting just beside her bed on the nightstand, but her hand never made it to the knob. Instead, it collided with something metal and cold only inches from where it had originated. Confused, she flattened her hand against it. Only then did she realize that she whatever she was laying on was definitely not her comfortable pillow top bed, and wherever she was, she definitely wasn’t in her bedroom.

Panic slowly began to creep over her as her right hand moved to inspect her other side. The same metal wall met it, and Elizabeth swallowed roughly. Her hands came together just above her face, moving slowly upward, like a child cautiously reaching to pet an unfamiliar dog. However, when her fingertips met the same metal for the third time, Elizabeth froze completely. Her mind went blank for a split second before her own thoughts resounded. Calm at first, then more and more frantic, repeating over and over again.

"No… no.no.no.no." She took a deep breath in and screamed as for help as loud as she could.

Down the hallway, the elder of the two guards had just left for his break, like every night since he’d started working there in ’89, leaving his new partner to monitor the security cameras. The job was a cakewalk, even for a high school drop out like this punk. There hadn’t been a break-in in the entire history of the building, and he doubted that would change in the next 20 minutes, even if the new guy was sitting with his back to the cameras and his MP3 player resounding in his ears.

Elizabeth’s hands beat on the metal above her, punctuating her hysterical screams. Seconds passed, then minutes, and she had no idea when or if the oxygen in her metallic coffin would run out, because it was obvious that no one could hear her screams. Her hands and her voice were starting to hurt, but all reason and logic had shut down. She kept beating against the walls and shrieking until there were tears running down her face. Soon her feet joined the fight, kicking as hard as she could.

Suddenly, Elizabeth heard a crunch at the end of the box as her foot connected with it.. All her movement and shouting came to an immediate halt. Wiping the tears off her face, she scooted herself closer to the end of her prison. Her hands braced against the walls as she kicked again. Something was buckling in the metal. A heavy sigh of surprise escaped her lips.

One more kick and it burst open, light flooding the chamber. Elizabeth didn’t think twice before climbing out as fast as she could. But the room she found herself in did little to calm her nerves. She’d seen rooms like this on crime shows and cheesy medical dramas. It was a morgue.

Slowly she looked around the room, shielding her eyes from the light as they slowly adjusted. The door was now hanging precariously from the drawer that she had just climbed out of. Each step was unsure as she moved back towards the tomb. There was a small card slipped into it like a label.

Elizabeth Greenberg

She had been frozen in fear enough for a lifetime. Her brain said ’Let’s get out of here,’ and her body quickly obliged, neither seeing the tray she knocked over nor hearing the crash of all the autopsy equipment hit the floor. One she erupted through the heavy metal doors, Elizabeth did a quick double take down the hallway. To her right, she saw the faint light of the security desk, but to her left she saw the entrance to a stairwell labeled SB for sub-basement. Surely, she thought, if there was anyone at that desk, they would have heard her screams. She’d barely finished her thought before she was headed for the stairwell. Her hands caught the door handle with little effort and she didn’t even stop for a second before her bare feet hit the first step, barreling up them. The sounds of her quick, heavy footfalls echoed through the entire stairwell as her short brown hair bounced to the same rhythm. Time felt like it was running on fast forward as she passed the basement door and rounded the corner to the Ground Floor landing. But the door was open before she even touched it.

"Jeffrey!" she exclaimed with relief when her eyes met a face she recognized.